A Presidents(‘?) Day Miracle

Today during my morning dog walk the beautiful dog and I were approached by a thuggish looking sphere of a dog, a little muscle factory of pit bull, and my first instinct was, “No way you! Back! Keep your thuggish jaws and cock away from my beautiful pure beautiful dog!” But then I saw that the thug bull was actually playful and nice and without collar or testicles. So we made friends and walked on and he walked along with us and was made happy, this one, and his tongue flopped and I began to wonder if there would be a moral to the story. He followed us all the way home, crossing at least four lanes of traffic with us. I gave him water and food and locked him inside the front gate, where he remained kind but also sort of sad. In fact this was the point when everything became sad as hell. Because I had to call animal control, didn’t I? And I had to rationalize it by thinking: this way his owners can follow protocol and drive down there and sit in that terrible waiting room full of other sad sad humans missing pets, then tour the very sad and shit-covered cages, turning each corner wondering if the next piss-covered cage would contain their pet and then! And then find him and hop and bounce and celebrate a joyful reunion! But then Patty upstairs said, “Animal control kills pit bulls, I think,” and so she took him to the vet and guess what? That’s exactly right: he had a microchip in his neck. You got that right. You did.

And so the moral of today’s adventure is this: do not judge a person based on his or her hairstyle or bike gear ratio or even teeth. Instead, scan the very small electronic thing the government is going to bury deep inside all of our necks. Happy George Washington’s Birthday!

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